KEEPIN' FROM SQUEELIN'

These last two years has been such a review of my life and who I am.  Tested to the limits at times. I know that some of the ways I try and grit my teeth is to speak out. I am really working on some things this past 9 months. Realization that the expectations we have about our lives will be as we grow older, what our relationships will be, how good we will feel physically, how our relationship with our siblings will be, what we envision our "family" unit to look like​, how our kids will be living their lives etc.  Sometimes I feel like one of those little pigs that when you pick it up, it squeals because that is all it can do. A few, my role models, are so tough, so strong and have pushed through and are continuing to push through some real crap like their husband's state of health and their daughter's continued struggles with drugs etc. I am working on not "squealing", just sittin' on it. I have these moments when I just want to take command, head into the crap, knowing I am short on ammo and somehow come out with the music playing and people cheering, like in the movies - come out with answers to my questions of "why", "tell me what I did wrong", "talk to me so I know what to fix", "just tell me the truth so I will go away, at least with a response."  I think what I have missed is that little box to shove all this crap, all these unanswered questions and push on, go around the sewage pit, don't look back, and somehow, .........somehow........just make that box out of iron with a giant padlock and never open it again. Boy, can you tell I am goofy this morning.  I guess this is all to say, I wish I was as strong as some others appear to be.  I am closing the lid of that box and won't open it again to anyone.  Head up, chin high, right foot in front of left, get on my mule and just ride. Okay, done.......It's 6:00am and just got up to check on my hubby, who is recovering from knee replacement surgery and give him his meds.  Getting more sleep but not enough yet. If I had chickens to feed, I would feel more useful at this hour since I have been awake since 4am.  Eggs to collect, chicken crap to step in.  Grandma Lucas would have  be in the kitchen by now, have cooked a good breakfast for grandpa and her boys.    Oh well, I hear my hubby's CPAP squealing, dogs have been out to pee and back in, coffee in hand, comforter on my feet and laptop on my lap emailing my buddy, my cousin who is my role model.

TELL ME WHEN IT'S TIME TO LAUGH

Well, here I sit at 5am, in my living room, with Philomena kitty rolling around on the liiving room floor, twittering (moaning and laughing at the same time) and horny like a female longhorn cow, my kitten "Munchkin" who is much younger, not at all clued into what is going on and trying to play with this horney little friend of hers.  My 92 yr old stepdad, who gets up in middle of the night, has left his empty sardine can on the floor for any curious dog or cat to examine by pushing it around on the new wooden floor, my husband's dog paced last night.  You could hear her nails on the floor walking around looking for her best buddy, my husband who is presently in the hospital after knee replacement surgery. He has been there three days and turned into a raving monster with the assist of drugs and pain and threw me out his room screaming for all to hear.  My little miniature horse, Widget, has decided he can jump and jumps his fence to wander the property and hang out with the older horses.  After chasing him at least 5 times a day, by various people, we gave up and let him go do what he wants to do.  Munchkin (the 9 week old kitten) runs over the nose of my GREAT BIG hound, Carver, who is soundly sleeping on his comfy pad which wakes him up in a storm of extremely loud warning (I will kill you if I catch you) sounds.  And if you have ever owned a hound, you know what I mean.  

My hip is absolutely killing me, can't sit to pee without incredible pain, and not wanting to say anything.  Just got a new sleep number bed and was hoping it would help but "no" and $3500 later, here I am.  

Then I get a quick look in the mirror and don't know who that extremely old and ugly woman is.  On my third round of antibiotics to kick a sinus infection which hasn't worked.  

A nice big bunch of flowers arrived via, my son, per orders from my husband.  The raging husband got off his pain meds after he realized he had probably dissolved his marriage and was about to be thrown out of the hospital and feared for his welfare on Friday when it's time to come home.  I had already researched old cockroach ridden motels in the area and had a vacancy.  There are many.  

The card sent with the flowers read in essence that he was sorry and bad behavior was due to pain and pain meds.  Said he has spoken to his sponsor and they had a long good conversation.  My husband is a recovered alcoholic 6 yrs sober but lately has been isolating (which means he goes to his room for most of the day, and watches tv and plays on his computer).  

Am I looking forward to the next 3 months of his recovery NOT!!!

This last 2 years have SUCKED!!!!!!! big time.  Step mom, who I loved so much, had a stroke and I was there when we turned off the machines.  It wasn't like they show on tv.  She choked and gasped, and threw up etc.  Then I made the choice, our of concern and love, to stay with my dad for 7 months as he was driving on the wrong side of the road due to extremely poor eyesight and refusing to admit it.  

Those 7 months were fun - NOT!!  Dad took all of his anger out on me as he grieved his loss - which ultimately resulted in me feeling like an emotional piece of hamburger.  I helped him with my step mom's trust and all of the distribution, take on the attorney who screwed up both trusts, helped him find a home to buy in Copan, Okla near his brother, packed up his 4 bedroom very large home by myself, moved him into his new home and finally got home to my house which was upside down.  My son and his fiancee had moved in to be with his dad and help out on the ranch while I was gone.  They moved into my bedroom so that meant they dismantled it, packed away most of my things, which was my request, to make them more comfortable.  Then Pat and I (via telephone conversations) chose to move them downstairs into his extremely large bedroom so that Kerry's 4 yr old daughter, who visited weekends, could have some space with them. Pat moved upstairs to the 3rd bedroom which was my long time dream craft room.  So all was pushed aside and he and his heavy smoking arrived.  I then arrived home from my stay with dad to a room with boxes and a bed.  

2 months later, my mom had a stroke so off to the hospital I went with her for the next 3 months and 2 strokes, convealescent hopitals, taking care of my 90 year old step dad who had fractured his back trying to pick her up after she had her first stroke, getting him to the doctors, emergency rooms, meds, cleaning his house, getting him food, getting him to hospital for surgery and home to recoop, meanwhile staying with my mom in hospital, the finished basement in their home flooded with sewage and it had been like that for at least a month, so hiring someone to handle that. Decisions were made, after mom's second stroke and blood clot developed which left her in a vegetative state.  Pulled her feeding tube, called Hospice.  Meanwhile, my son was getting ready to slowly move into his first home he bought, but had to expedite that to move in 24 hrs so Pat could put down a new floor, paint the room and curtains to ready for mom, move my step dad into the very large room to be with mom, and then bring her home.  Then began 6 days of taking care of mom, dad, husband, and somehow accepting the fact that mom was not going to around much longer. Trying to come to terms with the fact that my brother, who had been my best buddy for so long, just went sideways and disappeared to his home 23 miles away and let me do everything. He came over once while mom was dying at the house, told me not to call him if she died in the middle of the night.  And when she finally passed away at 3am, I stood alone, in the dark of early morning, seeing the stars, feeling the cold wind and watching the herse drive out the rocky ranch driveway and turn onto the country road headed to town and disappear.  

I called brother that morning to let him know and never saw or heard from him again.

Two weeks later, my dad, who was now living in Oklahoma, got ill and I jumped in the car and drove 2 hrs to take him to ER.  Brother said he was to busy.  Hence, 6 weeks of 22 hrs a day staying by his side in the hospital, almost losing him 3 times, asking for relief from my brother but he refused.  Then, for some reason, my brother woke up enough and decided to take over, verbally removing me from dad's room and no more communication except emails daily.  I came home to my home the later part of May. Dad eventually recovered enough to be moved to a convalescent hospital for 3 months and then my brother brought him home to his ranch to live in a travel trailer for 3 months until my brother built and addition to his home for dad.  I have not seen dad since I visited him twice in convalescent hospital.  I was told by dad, in an indirect way, that I was not welcome at my brother's place. I would invite dad to lunch and he would be to busy. Thanksigiving came and went, no phone calls from dad.  I called him at Christmas and he cried, saying he missed me..  

So, "tell me when it's time to laugh".  I am not a depressed person but I am emotionally bruised, beat up and struggling to keep my head above water.  Did I mention that during this, my step dad built a house next to our home on the ranch which meant I had to make lots of decisions and then move him in and myself to take care of him.  

My blessing - my step dad is so loving, so funny, and we laugh all of the time.  He is the bright spot in my life and my day.  He keeps my spirits up and my head above water.  

I am tough and proud of it but this last 2 years has tested me beyond.  

Five Wooden Buttons

11/17/2013

"Five Wooden Buttons"

"Five wooden buttons", hand made out of a branch of Manzanita wood, a wood that comes from a beautiful bush that is protected in California.  Beautiful dark reddish wood with a blond streak running through it. A very hard wood, but as you polish, it presents such a glow that comes from deep inside.  

"Five wooden buttons", hand made my me.  Each one cut from a branch I found in the woods above my trailer.  Similar in size. They all began the same way, bark cut off, stroked and sanded carefully with different grades of sand paper until the finish was satin smooth. Hours of work, fingers worn raw. 

Then holes to drill.  A button must have holes. Maybe not 4, as it seems an overkill.  Two would be just fine, just simple, just perfect to hold the thread that is pulled through it many times in order to hold it in place on a beautiful hand made lilac sweater.  

   

"Five wooden buttons", each given my full attention, the stroke of my fingers for hours, and the anticipation of what would she say when I gave her the sweater, adorned with the Five wooden buttons, each individually sewn on, one by one. 

 

"Five wooden buttons". Twenty years ago, they were given to her, wrapped in such love. Received with a smile and then......never seen again.

"Five wooden buttons" appeared today, November 17, 2013.  As I was going through the boxes of "things" belonging to mom. So many things left behind. I have the job of the long ordeal of sorting, keeping, discarding my mother's belongings and personal effects. Those "Five wooden buttons" appeared. 

I have casually looked for them, over the years, when mom and I would go out to shop, go to doctors appointments, take a drive to see the beautiful autumn leaves.  They were never seen again until... 

Today, opening up boxes, little boxes. Boxes with a beautiful satin covering, old wooden boxes, colorful tin boxes, beautiful ceramic boxes.  My mother loved boxes of all kinds.  Then.....there was this little rust colored velvet box, 3x3x3 inches with a beautiful little gathering of gold beads on top making a small design.  As I opened it, there they were the "Five wooden buttons" all with thread through their holes. They were no longer connected to that beautiful lilac sweater.  The thread was the thread I sewed them on with but they all had been cut off the sweather.

There they were, all five.  They seemed to be hiding or tucked away, or forgotten where they had been placed or hidden.  Still shiny, still beautiful red Manazanita wood.  There was a hush in my heart. A silence in the empty room I was in. I could hear the wind outside. Here they were, living in this little velvet box, cut off and hidden away.  Why? I don't know.  

What I do know is that I was not the girl my mom wanted to have.  She had two children, myself and my brother.  I was a little freckle faced, redheaded, pudgy tom boy.  Mom and I were very different people. Over the years she struggled to make me look nice, making my clothes, perming my hair, making me wear a bra, pretty dresses and wear lipstick, etc. But to no avail. I was just a tomboy, a girl who loved working with her dad, getting dirty, going fishing, etc.

I have seen, over the many years, gifts I have given mom, put in a box for Salvation Army, given back to me, not remembering I had made it for her. My gifts to mom disappeared, worn once for me to see or just hidden away, never used.   I tried to be the daughter she wanted me to be. Mom had high expectations for me, which I never met. I have led a financially comfortable life, having wild and wonderful adventures. But.....not the daughter she "expected".  

Finding those "Five wooden buttons" spoke loud and clear to me.  The final word, the final seal on the suspicions I have lived in my heart for years and were confirmed when I opened that little box and found those "Five wooden buttons".    

"Five wooden buttons". They are still resting comfortably in that little velvet box on a shelf in my room.  A sad note at the end of my mother's life that she never intended me to find.

"Five wooden buttons", what else is there to say except....."Mom I miss you and love you".

Mom passed away March 30th, 2013 3:01 am, in my home with me by her side, holding her hand, feeling her fainting pulse. Trying to do what a daughter should do.

Accepting Last Chapter ..Part 2

In Part 1 I reviewed the changes in my mom.  Yes, we who still have our parents when we are in our 60's, are lucky........or are we?

They change.......they change..........they change............!

My mother became a recluse, had my step dad cover all the windows in their home with foam core - no daylight showed. She would sit under a lamp, in her recliner and work her word puzzles.  My step dad enjoyed watching old westerns and black and white movies.  Mom had him set the television so there was no sound, only the word captions.  Then that wasn't enough. She had him buy her a temporary partition that he would put up in front of her everyday so she couldn't see the tv.  

My father, on the other hand, is now 90.  He lost my step mom a year ago February.  They were never married but had so much fun for 42 years, or so I thought.  Towards the last year, my step mom often spoke of leaving.  We later found that she had been having small strokes.  She would get angry and say horrible things to dad then be fine.

I never expected my "daddy" to change.  I was his favorite, his pet, his tomboy who would go fishing with him, work on cars with him.  My brother was a wimp for so long and a mommy's boy.   I called dad everyday and if I missed he would track me down until he heard from me.  This went on for 20 yrs.  My brother would maybe call once a week.  

When I wanted to go see dad, I would ask my brother if he wanted to go but he always had an excuse and when he got out there to Arizona, he would have to get back.

After my step mom passed, I chose to stay and live with my dad for 7 mos. so dad would not drive.  He was legally blind but wouldn't admit it.  Dad became angry in his grieving process and took it out on me, a woman of 67 yrs. "Don't cross your legs, don't put your elbows on the table, don't step on the throw rug outside of the shower - you will get it wet - dry off in the shower, don't move anything in the refrigerator and put everything back where it belongs, fold the dish towels like mom did etc.  He would jerk his hand away when I reached to hold it.  Once, he thought I was putting my hand on his shoulder when we were out.  He jammed his elbow back hard thinking he was hitting me. It wasn't me but another person.   By the end of 7 months i was an emotional mess, and exhausted as I did all the packing of his 4 bedroom home, so dad could move across country.  My sibling didn't have time, and wouldn't come out to spell me so I could go home to see my husband.  

It took a couple of months with dad settling into his new home for me to tell him why I have refused to stay overnight and preferred to travel the two hours back home.  He admitted he treated me like s--t.  He apologized several times after that.  Our relationship got back to normal.  I loved dad so much and I finally had my "daddy" back.

Then a 6 mos after he had moved he became ill and almost died 3 times while in the hospital.  During his stay he was at various stages of consciousness.  When he was conscious but drugged he became that evil mean guy towards me again, calling me horrible names, ordering me around like a slave.  When my brother would enter the room, dad's arms were up and a smile on his face.  When I came in, he would ask why I was there.  He would hit my arm and order some water or changing the lights.  I knew it was his true thoughts.  It was like when a person has to much to drink the truth comes out...... and that is what dad was like.  Was it a stroke?  who knows.   But it was dimentia, his short term memory was failing, he was repeating himself.  

Now in the last chapter of his life, I have lost my dad.  My dad has some kind of unspoken hostility towads me or my past actions somewhere in my life.  He lies to me.  Tells me things are fine.  My trust has been broken.  

Do I just accept his change as a result of dimentia?  Is it fair that in the last chapter of his life his love for me has dimmed, my mother's love for me had dimmed?  

Is that fair? I have done nothing but try to be there and take care when needed.  And in the last chapter of their lives, they only remember their love of my brother, who has done nothing to help in any way in their time of need.  A year and a half of my life, sleeping in hospital chairs for a total of 6mos, running errands, handling their financial affairs?  Being the daughter who would be there for doctors appts, shopping, etc.   Dimentia took them, twisted their minds and I lost them.  Accepting the last chapters of their lives was so different that what I thought it would be.  I feel so alone, so abandoned.   

So prepare yourself, know that their minds change and you may lose them.  You may lose them as your loving wonderful parents.  And yet they will be there in front of you, needing your help, needing you.....and yet......you will be expected to perform and accept criticism like a hired maid.

Prepare yourself, Pray for acceptance and understanding.  Oh I understand........but my heart is so sore!  It is so broken.

Accepting Last Chapters Part 1

Ocober 6 2013

"ACCEPTING THE LAST CHAPTERS"

We all approach this point when we start losing friends and family.  I have never given it much thought, accepting that it will be full of tears, sadness, reflecting moments and full of work.  Taking care of the father or mother that is left behind or going through and getting rid of the evidence of a long life - THINGS, things, things..... would be the "work".  I "always" thought I was prepared for the trials and tribulations of raising a child or losing loved ones.  I always accepted that I would just have to figure it out, create solutions, and move on.  Never did I figure on what the side shows of those challenges would be.

The side shows of "Last Chapters" in my life has been more than challenging.  I am tough gal, still riding my mule, still able to take long trips with truck and trailer, endure mechanical breakdowns, troubled horses or mules, bad weather, unplanned monetary debt etc.   But the challenges of your parents, who live long lives, are nothing short of a "mountain to climb and then a slide down without falling or losing skin off your butt".  

In the last year and a half I have lost my Step Mom, my Mom, almost lost my Dad 3 times, taking on the care of my Step-dad, losing a, once loving relationship with my brother who turned out to be my enemy, lost 2 of my mule riding buddies and my black lab - Lucky. 

"Accepting Last Chapters" means just that - it means "accepting" when you haven't planned on it.  We think we know how the "last chapters" will go.......they don't!  My mother developed Dementia and we later learned, suffered many strokes over the last years which created her Dementia.  Our relationship, which has been a challenge for me over the years, became so much more difficult with her becoming recluse, becoming more critical of me and openly adoring my brother, her youngest.  I interrupted my life to take mom on shopping trips, doctor's apts., daily phone calls, shopping for her and making sure she and my step dad were okay and comfortable.  My brother, her baby son, called once a month and visited once every two or three months while living just 15 miles away. She opening adored him and throughout her illness, worshiped his every visit, word or gesture. She loved him so. 

Last January Mom suffered her first of two strokes.  I immediately took up residence in the hospital with her, while going back and forth to take care of my 91 yr old step dad, cleaning their home, doing laundry and shopping, taking step dad to dr's appts and then back to mom.  I was received at the hospital, when she was conscious, with little regard.  But the twice a week 2 hr visit from my brother was received with open arms and smiles when she was conscious.

It was a daily reminder that our relationship was always a "work in progress".  Mom and I were very different people.  And that difference was accentuated by the changes as result of her many small, undiscovered, strokes over the years.  In her last week of life, I brought her home to my home. , We redecorated the large bedroom, brought in a hospital bed for mom, moved step dad into the room to be with mom in her last days or moments.  We knew she didn't have much time. 

I stayed in a chair beside mom's bed for 6 days, with only brief times away.  I held her wrist on her last night of life, feeling her fading heartbeat, resting my head next to her and listening to her breathing.  Waiting, waiting, waiting for her departure.  And knowing she would miss her son but not sure she would miss me.  Oh Mom and I had some good times, laughter, talks etc but that was years ago and we both worked on being mother and daughter with little bits of progress - more acceptance than progress. 

The "Accepting..." I speak about is accepting the fact that your mom, at the end of her life still did not accept who you are, what you have done, your mistakes and successes.  To say goodbye wondering if you mom really loved you or just was forced to say it and accept you because she gave you life.  

 Was the doubt in my mind the result of being so close to mom over the years and not seeing the "forest for the trees" with small strokes being the culprits of change?  How do you factor that in?  How do you sort out what was really in her heart and what was forgotten as a result of the stroke/Dementia?  Was there a "deep down" love for her daughter as she approached life with lots of adventures, some of which was not approved by mom?  I was her "wild child".  To look at mom's urn, so beautiful, and wonder where she is, if she really loved me, if she knew how hard I tried to make her comfortable and at peace.  I didn't know about this part of the "...Last Chapter."  I didn't know I would be doubting my mother's love for me.  Or just be sad that she, as a result of her illness/strokes/Dimentia would forget her love for me.  It isn't fair, is it?  Did she forget?  I think so.  But maybe I should be just grateful she had it at one time, that she did give birth to me and loved me until she was ill. 

Maybe that is what "Accepting Last Chapters" means.


 

A Passing

March 23, 2012

Well greetings to all.  I haven't written in awhile as life on the ranch has been busy.  We had a very hot summer - even the old locals couldn't remember one so hot for so long.  Most of the farmers in our area lost their corn crops to the heat, their soy bean crops and their second hay crops.  We were lucky, we got a second cutting but it was half the production of what it should have been.  Then we sweated out not having enough hay for winter.  We had sold all of our 2011 hay and all of our first cutting hay (130 round bales) thinking we would have an average summer and would get a decent second cutting and maybe a third cutting if we got some rain.  Not a chance.  

My vegetable garden and everyone else's were terrible.  My tomatoes had buds and grew tall but didn't produce any fruit until late September.  I grew some Spaghetti Squash which turned out okay.  My green peppers (they call them Mangos out here) produced late and very few.  Everything else just didn't produce.  Even with watering them, it was to hot.  

So I was canning a few tomatoes in October and made some bread and butter pickles from some pickling cucumbers that the neighbors shared with me.  That was all the canning I did last season.  

Now, this year, I was hoping for a great garden and had lots of plans.  But life intervenes and I am in Arizona staying with my dad.  One month ago, my step mom got real ill and dad got her to the hospital.  She had a major heart attack and they put a stint in her artery which is 96% blocked but so were the other veins and they couldn't open them and she had 2 more heart attacks and flat lined twice a day later.  So I started driving which took me 1 1/2 days.  Meanwhile my dad called my step mom's daughter and that part of the family started making plans to come out from New York.  I arrived at noon on Thursday and the rest of the family arrived at 4:30pm.  Mom was coherent and aware of us all being there but couldn't talk as she had a ventilator.  Basically they were keeping her alive with all the tubes and things.  

This was the first time I have ever seen someone pass.  She was fading and unable to live without all the tubes, her kidneys were shutting down, her liver was almost shut down and she couldn't breath without the ventilator and it was beginning not to be able to help her.  She was so angry that she was reduced to machines and dad couldn't find the "Living Will".  But once her daughter got there and we all talked with the doctor and they had to make a decision.  While the family was in all talking and trying to go through that horrible process of letting mom go, I was with her.  I was holding on to her hand.  She was able to communicate by squeezes with her hand and her head could move a little.  I asked her if she had heard what the doctor had told us and she confirmed that she had.  I asked her if she was ready to go and she nodded her head as strong as she could up and down and squeezed my hand over and over and over again.  

I had those last moments with her and thanked her for being a "mom" to me when I needed one.  I don't get along very well with my mom as we are very different and I could never talk to her but I could always talk to my step mom.  She squeezed my hand softly as I spoke to her acknowledging my words.  

The family came back in and the decision was made to unhook everything.  They gave mom a very strong dose of morphine as she was in tremendous pain without it.  The family could not stay and watch.  My dad stayed to be with the love of his life and I stayed with my dad.  We both watched as life left mom.  Her breathing slowed, her heart rate slowed and then she gasped a few times but really not taking in any air.  The nurse says it is an automatic response.  She quieted and her breathing was so shallow and her heart rate slowed and then stopped.  

She was still warm, she looked so at peace but her mouth was open.  My dad left to go tell the family and I rolled up a towel, placed it under her chin to prop her mouth closed.  She was a proud lady who never let anyone see her without her teeth.  I closed her eyes and touched her cheek.  I kissed her on her forehead.  She was so warm.  I could feel her spirit.  

She was at peace.   Later as we left the hospital and were getting into the car, her dog, Touche', had been in the car most of the afternoon.  When we opened the car door, Touche' walked to the edge of the seat where the door was wide open, stood there and she gazed for a long time up into the air.  We just stood there, quiet, and watched her as she gazed upward.  Then after a minute or so, she turned around and went back further into the car and laid on mom's throw.  I truly believe she was watching mom's spirit ascend into the heavens.  

A loss of someone I will miss and look forward to seeing again when I go to the great barn in the sky.  Now I am with dad, he is unsteady on his feet, can't see very well and can't hear very well but has the spirit of a good old horse who won't quit.  My brother and I both spoke to dad as gently as we could to tell him he can't drive any more.  He has accepted that and been so good.  

Meanwhile everyone departed for their various homes except me.  I am committed to stay with dad and take care of him, helping him as best I can in his grieving process, help him to relocate.  That commitment may take, I fear, most of this year.  But my dad raised me and stuck beside me in all my crazy ideas.  I was his wild child.  Never in any trouble but always doing crazy wonderful things.  If it takes that long, so what.  He is my dad and I am here.  

I hope to go home to visit my husband and my little fur buddies and my horses and mules soon, and then return.  Life sure is unpredictable.  I could have bet that my dad would be the one to go first.  But here we are.  I am so grateful to have a wonderful, jolly, happy, loving dad.  

November 13, 2008 - Sunday
Farm life has been busy - with my husband nursing a broken collar bone, I have had lots of adventures on our huge Massey Fergusen tractor.  I love driving it and doing things, which is some times a challenge.  But it is also scary at times as it is so powerful but that doesn't stop me. 

Autumn is full of colors this year.  The trees are incredible, red, orange, yellow, purple, lt green, brown and ready to shed all of their leaves with the first hard freeze.  In this life on the farm there are many things that are "just a part of life."  Flies (that is why grandma had a pie cabinet to keep the flies off), ticks (they don't go away until a hard freeze), praying for rain - then praying it doesn't rain until you get the hay in, watching the local tv channels on days and nights of severe storms because they show the radar images down in one corner with alerts in case there are tornados in the area, making sure the weather radio is working after you go to bed as it will alert us of any tornado "watch" or "warning".  A tornado watch means the conditions are perfect for one, tornado warning means that one tornado has been spotted.  Accepting exceptionally dirty clothes from working on the farm, having slip on shoes and slip on boots at the front door, ready, for when you hear a noise or see something that has to be taken care of like horses broken out of the pasture etc. 

Then in the winter accepting the daily sweeping that must be done in the house because of the wood bin, the wood stove and all that it brings besides heat.  And accepting that living in the country brings dangers for you and your animals.  Coyotes, Cougars, Raccoons, snapping turtles, vultures, eagles and wild dogs.  The coyotes often take puppies and kittens if left out.  Cougars take small calves, dogs, sheep etc.  Raccoons can kill a dog by coaxing them into the water of a creek, lake or river then hold them down to drown.  Sheep face the same dangers with cougars, wild dogs and coyotes. 

We have just recently had to accept a loss - our two precious beagles.  The lived in beagle heaven, hunting in the daytime after it warmed up, napping on dog beds in the afternoon, going for a short hunt late afternoon and then settling down for a nice nights sleep in their own space, in the laundry room, with all the food and water they want.  They met a challenge last Sunday they could not overcome - Little Happy never made it home, and his girlfriend, Pretty Face, somehow crawled home only to die here.  That is the REAL world of country living and surviving. 

We have always taken in "dump dogs" who have been abused and/or dumped to wander and find another home, if they can.  So two beds have opened up and we wait for God to bring us some little guys who need help.  Meanwhile, their best buddy, Carver, a big Coyote Hound, who always ran with them, but age always brought him home early, is now desperately moarning their loss.  He gets up early every morning and goes to their room, then goes outside and looks for them, then comes back in and searches their room then cries.  It is so sad. I think he would have understood more if he had seen them dead. 

So, I have stopped leaving the barn door open at night, thinking Happy might miracously come home.  I know now he is dead.  They are both missed.  Our hearts miss them and I feel honored to have been a part of their lives and to have been trusted by them. 

Well, it all sounds ugly and depressing and then I look up, out the window and see the bright red Cardinal coming in for his seeds.  They are starting to feed as the fields get empty and the insects die from the cold nights.  Soon, all 5 bird feeders will be full of bright red Cardinals.  I am starting to straighten up my hobby studio where I have been
dumping all of the stuff, supplies for projects and unfinished projects.  Now the day has come - JUDGEMENT DAY - when it is time for me to dig my way through the stacks of stuff I have not put away, have done projects, supplies and ORGANIZE, ORGANIZE, ORGANIZE.  I actually love to organize but it has to be a cloudy, rainy, cold day in order for me to do it.  Otherwise I am outside playing in the garden, with my mule or dreaming up more projects for the barn and other outdoor improvements. 

Here are some of the projects:
*framing the hundreds of photos and many pieces of art
*playing with designing the frames myself as  hate the standard frames
*finishing the kitchen curtains
*hanging the pictures
*putting in the rest of the flooring in the bathroom and studio
*clearing off the shelves in the studio and mark thing to go to the booth I have in a consignment store in town
*putting together photos of my precious 4-legged angels
*design and put together small barn front, complete with doors to hang on the wall and hold  all the names of my 4 legged angels on it. 
*start making up cookie dough for holidays and freezing it

Well, that is enough to give you a headache I am sure.  No recipes today.  Just a visit.  Thanks for visiting and hope you come back soon.